


Interrogations

by cthulhu_has_chaotic_stories (cthulhu_is_chaotic_good)



Category: Alex Rider - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cthulhu_is_chaotic_good/pseuds/cthulhu_has_chaotic_stories
Summary: The first time Yassen and Alex found themselves on separate sides of an interrogation table, the situation was not as black and white as Alex would prefer. The second time they found themselves across the table from each other, Alex knew he was in the right. By the third time they met in similar circumstances, Alex wasn’t so sure he even understood what ‘doing the right thing’ meant anymore.
Comments: 35
Kudos: 86





	1. Part I

The room looked like every interrogation room in every police procedural Alex had ever seen, with the possible exception that this room was older than many British tv sets. Alex’s hands were held in cuffs attached to the table in front of him. The room’s walls were blank and white, and the paint was peeling. There wasn’t even a clock in the room. There was a single door set into the side wall. On the other side of the table, the wall appeared to be a two-way mirror, meaning it must truly be a window into the room as well.

If the situation was less tense, Alex would have laughed at how stereotypical this whole affair had been so far.

The only good side of the situation was that the oppressively hot and humid Nigerian air was kept at bay. Despite the age of the police station they were in, the air conditioning system was impressively modern. After drenching in sweat outside, Alex was grateful for room temperature air in the interrogation rom.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since they’d been apprehended at the hotel. It had been at least a couple of hours. No one had come in to check on him since leaving him cuffed to the table a while before.

If the situation was less tense, Alex would make a joke about child abandonment for anyone on the other side of the two-way mirror. As it was, he just hoped whoever was interrogating him would be different than the man who had picked his fellow agents and himself up.

Just the thought of the interrogation that was coming left Alex shivering.

When the doors opened, Alex’s hope dashed away. The man who had met that afternoon at the hotel entered the room. He was alone, and empty handed.

“Do you need to go to the restroom?” Yassen Gregorovich asked.

“No.”

Yassen nodded. He took the seat across from Alex. The table was wide enough that Alex couldn’t lunge at the man even if he wasn’t cuffed into place.

“I imagine we can dispose of any pleasantries,” Yassen said.

Alex didn’t say anything. He somehow doubted Yassen had treated the adult agents with him with any pleasantries either, but if Yassen wanted to pretend that he was a civil man, Alex would let him.

“I have several questions I need to ask you, but I think we both know the answers to almost all of them already.”

Yassen might have wanted Alex to inquire about those questions. If he did, he was disappointed. In the short pause after Yassen’s words, Alex didn’t so much as take a deep breath.

Yassen gave a ghost of a smile at Alex’s silence. “We both know MI6 sent you here, and the people you were with are not your parents.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yassen hadn’t brought in any paper to take notes. If he really had a lot of questions to ask, he should have. Which meant others were watching. Yassen wasn’t going to be fooled by Alex’s cover – they both knew that – but someone else might.

“The people you were travelling with have already confessed that they are not related to you.”

It had, at most, been hours since they had been apprehended. The older agents wouldn’t have confessed to their cover being a falsehood. If Yassen was telling the truth, what had happened to exact that confession?

Yassen wasn’t telling the truth. That was the only logical conclusion.

“You’re lying. They’re my parents.”

Alex had never been able to read the icy blue eyes that examined him now, and that hadn’t changed in the past year. _How are you alive?_ he wanted to ask. But that would mean admitting Alex knew Yassen to whoever was watching this scene from outside the interrogation chamber.

The question was also unlikely to be answered. Alex could predict already that Yassen would only say he was there to ask questions, not answer them.

“It took your supposed father twenty-three minutes to tell me your real name.”

"If you’re torturing people, they’ll say whatever you want.”

“Perhaps.” Yassen put a hand on the interrogation table and drummed two of his fingers against the cold metal. “Since he was telling me information that we both know I know, I doubt it.”

The statement admitted a complicity to torture that Alex had already suspected.

It didn’t help the pit in his stomach.

“Torture’s against the Geneva Convention.”

“The United Kingdom is not at war.”

Did the Geneva Convention only apply to wartime prisoners? Alex racked his memory for other international laws that might apply. The problem was that year 11 students hardly spent much time studying law. Certainly, Alex wasn’t familiar enough with Nigerian laws to know their specific legislation on the torture of discovered spies. And as reassuring as it should be to know he was at a police station, Alex knew enough about the city after a few days in it to know the police were supposedly incredibly corrupt. If Yassen was working for them, perhaps they would turn the other way to scenes of torture. Perhaps they would even aid in the act.

“Torture’s illegal,” Alex settled on.

Yassen nodded in acknowledgement of the words and moved on. “How long have you been in Ibadan?”

The fake passport MI6 had given Alex would have the date of his entry into the country stamped in it. “My family and I arrived four days ago.”

“What was the purpose of your visit?”

“My dad’s a businessman. He has meetings.”

Yassen surveyed Alex. “And you?”

“My mum and I are on vacation.”

“How long did MI6 give you to memorize your cover?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yassen’s fingers drummed on the table again for a second, and then his hand flattened. “Is it a school holiday in London?”

It wasn’t. Not that MI6 had cared.

“Is that one of the questions you’re supposed to ask?” Alex rebuffed.

“No.” Yassen glanced at the mirrored wall hiding whoever was watching this interview. “I don’t need any more lies, and it is unlikely you will answer the rest of my questions truthfully.”

“I’ve been telling the truth.”

Alex watched as Yassen shook his head, then pushed himself back from the table. He walked out of the room, leaving Alex again alone.

The time passed slowly. Alex was half convinced that at any moment someone, likely Yassen, would enter with pliers or a similarly terrifying tool to exact a confession that he’d been lying. Apparently, his captors had already employed the use of torture. When two man came in and walked him to the restroom, Alex seriously considered attempting to knock the men out and escape. If the hall to the restroom hadn’t passed another few armed men, he probably would have at least tried to leave.

The door opened next while Alex was resting uncomfortably, slumped over the table with his head against his arms and his wrists slowly bruising from the restraints that had been tightened too much after his return to the room. The room filled with the smell of strong coffee. Yassen closed the door behind himself and took the seat of the interrogator again. They looked at each other without a word while Yassen took a long sip of his coffee.

“What now?” Alex asked eventually, half afraid of the answer.

“I’ve been asked to give you another opportunity to tell the truth,” Yassen said calmly.

Alex was too exhausted to speak politically. “What if you don’t like my answers? Are you going to break more laws to torture me?”

“I have no plans to hurt you,” Yassen replied. “I didn’t think you knew much, and your countrymen revealed as much.”

It was a dismissal that Alex hadn’t been expecting. Alex swallowed, then tried to make the best of it. “They would know best.”

“They did,” Yassen agreed.

Alex stared back, willing himself to look unafraid. The other agents were dead. Or Yassen was bluffing.

“Tell me again why you are here,” Yassen said. “Tell the truth, this time.”

“My dad’s a businessman. My mum and I were visiting.” Alex took a deep breath. “Where are my parents? I want to go home.”

Yassen raised an eyebrow, and took another drink. “Try again.”

“We weren’t doing anything. My dad’s a businessman. My mum and I were tourists. Why are we under arrest? Did my dad break a law?”

“Several. As have you.”

“I haven’t broken any laws!” Alex said. “Not unless the cops here prosecute people for jaywalking.”

Yassen glanced at the two-way mirror. “As I said, sarcasm is his deflection.”

Alex looked at the mirror as well. “This man’s crazy. I’m a British tourist; my government will be upset that you’ve arrested me! Let my parents and I go!”

Yassen turned his attention back to Alex. “You should worry about yourself. The other agents gave you up. They both already confessed to being here illegally, and they are no longer a problem.”

Alex’s stomach rolled. “They’re lying. You tortured them, and they lied to make you stop. They’re my parents.”

“There will be plenty of time to run a DNA test while waiting for your trial,” Yassen replied.

“What trial? I haven’t done anything wrong.” Alex glared. “Are my parents waiting for a trial too?”

“No.”

Alex didn’t ask where they were again. Even the tourist he was pretending to be wouldn’t be dumb enough to have not figured out that the older agents were dead by now. “Then why would I wait for a trial? Deal with me now!”

“I suspect my employers in the government have a vested interest in holding leverage against the United Kingdom. Not only did they capture their spies, but the youngest is only fifteen? It would be embarrassing for the United Kingdom if Nigeria brought your service for your country to light. Your government would have much to answer for if this situation was revealed.”

“My family is here for my dad’s business. I’m just a tourist.” Alex glared. “But it sounds like you aren’t going to believe me, and it doesn’t matter if you do. Whatever your people are up to, clearly it’s no good if you’re looking for imaginary spies everywhere.”

Yassen leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table, and raising his eyebrows in polite interest. “Oh?”

“You’re not Nigerian.” Anyone could see it, or hear the lack of an accent. It didn’t mean Alex knew Yassen to reveal that the Russian wasn’t a citizen of this country. “I bet people don’t hire you to help local police,” Alex said. “Not if you’re torturing people. You’re doing something that needs to be stopped if you’re willing to hurt people for information.”

“What am I doing?” Yassen asked. “Besides, as you say, torturing people. Let us assume for now that hurting people who are up to no good is justified.”

“It’s not,” Alex insisted, before he processed the first part of the sentence. His eyes widened. “What do you mean, people who are up to no good? My dad works at a British company! He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“Then you aren’t aware that the man you are claiming as your father killed two scientists yesterday?”

Alex recoiled. Yassen stared at him, dispassionate.

“You’re lying,” Alex said.

“No.”

It took a moment to gather his thoughts, and prepare his defense. Alex hadn’t expected to hear that people had been killed; he wasn’t even sure he believed it. But as much as Alex despised the manipulations that MI6 used to get him to work the agency, MI6 weren’t evil. They helped people. Alex was doing the right thing when he worked for them. He had saved people by doing the right thing and helping MI6, even when it hadn’t been his first choice. SCORPIA was the evil organization, and Yassen had worked for them for years! No, if MI6 was having people followed – or killed – it was because those people were up to no good.

“What did the scientists do?” Alex demanded, not expecting a true answer.

“They were nuclear physicists.”

Alex leaned back, as much as the cuffs would allow him. “What, were they building a bomb?”

Yassen didn’t deny it.

“There’s your answer then!” Alex said. “If anything happened to those scientists, it’s because they were developing a weapon. They were going to hurt people, or make it possible to hurt people!”

“Your government has atomic weapons,” Yassen observed.

Alex had heard General Sarov’s plan. He’d gone through it many times in his bed at night. He knew where he stood on developing more atomic bombs. “That doesn’t mean the world needs to have more! If more governments have bombs, people will continue to develop them. And soon there will be an accident, or a war, and millions of people could die!”

“I don’t need a lesson on how nuclear technologies can be used.”

“Then you know why someone would murder those scientists.” Alex realized too late that what he’d said wasn’t quite a disavowal of the older agents being the one to murder those scientists.

Yassen pushed his mug away from him. “It’s good you are talking. You should talk more, and my employers will use what you reveal as an indication that you will work with them. It will be easier for you if you do. Previous spies arrested in Nigeria have served long sentences, and I’m not sure you would find their prisons comfortable if you are fighting against them. Perhaps you will not find them comfortable even if you cooperate.”

“I’m not working with anyone!” Alex asserted. “This is all theoretical. I’m not a spy; I’m just a child that’s being terrorized by terrible people. If the Nigerian government hired you, they’re terrible as well.”

“What makes someone terrible, if not arresting someone who’s broken international law?” Yassen asked. “What makes the Nigerian government worse than your own? Just from today I can tell you the British government hires children and sends spies to murder men in other countries.”

Ian Rider had raised Alex with certain traditional moral precepts: help and protect others. Don’t harm people unless it’s a life or death situation. Yassen clearly hadn’t learned the same. “Just from today, I can tell you the Nigerian government tortures people,” Alex returned. “And kills people they think are spies.”

Yassen tilted his head. “What should the Nigerian government do, when they catch spies infiltrating their country and killing their citizens?”

“ _If_ that happened, which is hasn’t, then they should arrest them. That’s it.”

“Here we are then. With you arrested, and facing trial and prison time. Does that satisfy your morality?”

“No, because I didn’t do anything.” Alex had the frustrating sense that they were talking in circles, and neither of them were advancing their cause.

Yassen must have arrived at the same conclusion because he switched his rhetoric immediately after Alex’s retort. “Back to my question,” Yassen said. “What makes your government so much better than any other? Is it just because it’s the country where you were raised, or is it because you think your country serves its people better, or is somehow more morally just than others? Whatever your reason, I assure you that there are people in this country who believe the same of Nigeria.”

“How does making nuclear bombs help Nigeria?”

Yassen examined him. Alex stared back, blank. Maybe if he held eye contact, he wouldn’t show his terror. Yassen’s gaze shifted to Alex’s hands, held tight in the cuffs attached to the table. Alex looked at his wrists as well. The skin around the cuffs was white. “Those are too tight.”

“Yeah,” Alex admitted.

“I can get the key.”

What did it matter if the cuffs were too tight? Yassen was talking of sending Alex to a Nigerian prison for a crime Alex hadn’t even known was occurring.

“Wait here,” Yassen said, with only a slight hint of irony. He took his empty mug and left the room.

Alex had assumed Yassen would be back soon after he left. Minutes ticked by, and no one returned. Alex wriggled his wrists hopelessly, feeling his skin pull as he moved against the too-tight cuffs. All that happened was his wrists hurt more than before. And he was tired, and afraid, and alone in a country that he didn’t know much at all about. And Yassen was apparently only here to go in circles with Alex while Alex refused to admit they knew each other. Alex took a shaky breath. _And MI6 had sent him here as cover while they had scientists killed._

The whole situation was more than Alex had bargained for when he’d agreed to it.

Alex sighed as the door opened again. Yassen reentered, this time with another mug of coffee and an aromatic breakfast roll.

Yassen left the roll and the coffee in front of Alex, and then unlocked the cuff holding Alex’s right hand. He left Alex’s left wrist secured, but he loosened the cuff. Yassen moved to sit back down at the other end of the table, leaving the coffee and roll in front of Alex. He placed the key to the remaining cuff in front of himself.

“There’s no one outside right now.” Yassen nodded to the mirror.

“I don’t know why that matters,” Alex said, defensively. “If you’re saying that to threaten me, it doesn’t scare me. They weren’t going to stop you from hurting me.”

Yassen shrugged. “I don’t need to threaten you. But I think we were discussing why an atomic weapon would not be so terrible for a country.”

“It would be terrible for the world.”

“That is not the same discussion.”

Alex frowned. He reached for the coffee, and when Yassen didn’t object, took a sip. It wasn’t good coffee, but Alex had tried worse. “How is terrible for the world and terrible for a country not the same thing?”

“There are advantages to possessing a weapon that others in a region do not.”

Alex knew a bit about the subject. They’d discussed it, briefly, in school. Israel had supposedly had atomic weapons for ages as a preventative measure against other countries in the region, although they often claimed not to possess such weapons when questioned at international conferences.  
  
“There are nuclear treaties,” Alex recalled, after taking a bit out of the roll. “It doesn’t help a country if they say they’ll never make a nuclear weapon, and then they do.”  
  
“Not if they are discovered to be working on one before it is created,” Yassen acknowledged. “But eliminating the witnesses takes care of that problem. And if they have such weapons by the time the knowledge is public, there are strategic advantages to a country. There are military advantages. Perhaps there are even advantages to keeping the peace in a region. Things are not always so black and white.”

“I know that.” Alex scowled. “So that’s what’s happening, then? Nigeria’s making an atomic bomb, and hiring you to help guard the process?” He almost added a line about how he was just a tourist yanked off the street and into this conspiracy, but it felt like laying on a cover too thick. Especially if there really was no one outside the room watching.

“No,” Yassen dismissed. “That is, as you said, only theoretical. But I think perhaps you should wonder if your government is morally correct after all when they send spies to kill scientists in other countries, based on their own fears.”

Alex said nothing.

“Would it be worth it, to serve a life in prison in another country just to serve your own government’s interests?” Yassen asked, after a time.

Alex concentrated on finishing the roll and drinking his coffee. Yassen frowned. “It would be easy for you to disappear into the prison system, without your government knowing where to find you. You have played at being a spy for a while, and you have done much better than many would expect, but this world is not so simple as you think it is. Not all your government’s interests are as simple as taking out a terrorist cell or saving the lives of children.”

“Enough of them are,” Alex said. He could still deny he was a spy if asked; that statement wasn’t enough to indicate Alex’s complicity in government espionage.

“And you know which task you are sent on is which? Which mission will help others, and which mission will serve the goals of your country above all else?”

As if Yassen cared which mission was which. 

“I haven’t been sent on any tasks,” Alex lied. The roll he’d just eaten lay heavy in his stomach. MI6 wouldn’t use him just to serve selfish national interests – there had to be something sinister at play here. Yassen was here, after all! Maybe Nigeria truly was developing nuclear weapons.

A quiet voice in Alex’s head reminded him what Yassen had said - that the United Kingdom had atomic weapons as well.

“How does having a nuclear weapon keep the peace in a region?” Alex asked, thinking back to the earlier conversation. “How can more nations having atomic weapons possibly be good?”

“There is a power to be had in owning such a weapon. Nations who possess one can assure themselves of the ability to attend certain international conferences, and use their ability to make nuclear weapons to barter. Perhaps more importantly, nuclear weapons are a deterrent to other nations attempting to attack.”

“But other countries will react to another nuclear weapon being created, won’t they?”

“It’s a possibility, and a possibility that a government will consider before embarking on the endeavor to produce such a weapon. Sanctions and condemnation will be almost certain.”

“There aren’t enough advantages,” Alex said.

“Maybe not in your view,” Yassen agreed.

“But I’m right. And my government agrees if you’re claiming someone from my government shot some scientists.”

Yassen made a noncommittal noise. “Why do you think that is, that they are so opposed to former colony getting the same power that they have?”

“Because nuclear bombs should never have been made,” Alex responded without thinking. “There’s no reason. They know it can only hurt people.”

“Or they have their own interests at mind.”

“It’s in everyone’s interests to disarm the existing bombs, and not create more!”

“So you have said.” Yassen was beginning to look bored. “My goal here was not to speak about possible nuclear weapons, however. I was asked to give you another chance to reveal who you worked for.”

“I don’t work for anyone.”

“And you had no knowledge of the men who were killed?”

At least on this one point Alex had always been honest. “No.”

“If you were released, you wouldn’t have instructions to immediately pursue killing other Nigerian citizens?”

“What?” Alex didn’t have to hide his surprise.

“Answer the question.”

“No!”

“Alright.” Yassen nodded, slowly. “The Nigerians wanted to put you in prison. I convinced them that holding you would cause too many problems with the British authorities.”

Alex stared.

“The constable will arrange a trip for you back to your hotel. Find your way home to England from there. If anyone here sees you again, they will shoot you on sight.”

He didn’t believe Yassen. Not yet, anyway. Alex would believe he was free the moment he was at his hotel, safe and unharmed.

“Alex.” Yassen picked up the key from the table, his gaze not wavering from Alex’s own as he walked to where Alex was held in place. “I don’t want to leave here knowing that you went out and caused trouble investigating a situation you don’t understand, and were killed for a goal I very much doubt you would agree with fully. Tell me you will go home.”

Alex chewed on his lip. He should deny knowing Yassen. He should play dumb to this whole pretense. And even if he didn't, Alex didn’t owe Yassen anything. Especially not a promise to stay out of danger. Maybe if he looked in the computers of the agents he had been with, he could find out why MI6 had sent him here. Find out the true purpose of Yassen being here.

Yassen raised a hand and Alex flinched. He could only move a little without pulling against the cuff, and the tug of the metal held Alex in place even as he moved back. The man frowned, then, surprisingly, only brushed a strand of hair out of Alex’s eyes.

“Consider your choices, little one,” Yassen said. “There are more paths out there than working for a master you were too young to choose.”

Yassen uncuffed Alex’s remaining hand. Alex leaned back fully for the first time in many hours, aware of the soreness from being held in place for so long.

“Is Nigeria developing nuclear weapons?” Alex asked, quietly.

Yassen gave him an indecipherable look. Alex took it as a yes. “I thought you were eliminating witnesses.”

“You didn’t see anything.”

“But we talked about-”

“Hypotheticals. It would not be enough to prove anything, and even if it were it would mean you giving testimony. MI6 isn’t going to lose their youngest agent for a chance of convincing the international community that my hypothetical discussion with you is true, especially when it means they need to reveal having a child spy.” A faint hint of smile touched Yassen’s lips. “If they are insistent on using you as a child, they have to face the consequences.”

Alex, unsure of what to say, decided to stay silent instead. He watched Yassen leave, foot nervously tapping on the floor. The day had been a lot longer than he’d expected. He wanted badly to go home and know that he was safe. And most of all, Alex wanted to talk to Mrs. Jones. He had more than a few questions for her.

\--

Months later, when Nigeria announced that they had developed an atomic weapon, Alex listened to the news with a heavy heart.

He didn’t think Yassen was right. Nuclear weapons, whatever advantages a government might claim they offered, could do too much damage. One mistake or error in judgement – or one madman who came to power - could lead to catastrophe.

That didn’t erase a small worry in the back of his head that Yassen had been, at the least, not entirely wrong. Nuclear weapons were illegal for a reason. No nation needed more of them. But had MI6’s worry been to prevent nuclear weapons because it was the moral thing to do, or had it been because the United Kingdom benefited if they were one of only a few nations with such capabilities? And even when the goal of another nation was wrong, was sneaking into a nation and killing their scientists the right way to go about preventing that goal? Did the ends justify the means?

Was it right for MI6 to use a child, if the result was millions of lives saved?

Help and protect people that needed it, and don’t hurt others unless there was no choice. Those were the principles Alex had been raised with. He’d helped people because he knew those values were important. Why did it suddenly seem as if life was far more complicated than those principles taught?

Alex barely listened to his teachers at school that week. His mind was on other matters. No matter what happened in his life, Alex didn’t want to become Blunt or Jones. The ends wouldn’t justify the means, not when it meant hurting others. Now all that was necessary was for Alex to figure out how to navigate MI6 while keeping that mindset intact.

* * *

Note: I would be incredibly interested in what people think of this story as it develops. The idea came to me a few months ago, as I was thinking about how Alex's morality would develop over his time with MI6, whether the ends often justify the means, and what we can justify to ourselves if the reason is good enough.

This chapter is *not* by any means an intensive look at the reasons for or against nuclear weapons being developed. However, after reading only a couple of books on the topic, while I think Alex has plenty of reasons to have a strong opinion on the subject (and I do, quite honestly, do as well), it occurred to me that a world as chaotic as AR's might have a few more nations seriously considering that they would do better with more serious weaponry. 


	2. Part II

Mrs. Jones had told Alex that they would wait until the end of his first semester at university to use him again. He was supposed to have at least a few months to study and pretend to be normal before he confirmed with MI6 whether he was accepting their job offer.

Apparently, hidden in the fine print Alex hadn’t been given, was the clause ‘we’ll leave you alone until winter break, but we make no promises for our friends in the CIA letting you be'.

The flight had been long and exhausting, with Alex focused on studying his notes for the next exam while ignoring the background hum of the plane engine, the periodic cries of a child having a tantrum, and the drunken ramblings of the businessman the next row over. By the time Alex found the man waiting for him in the lobby of the airport, he was ready to go to sleep. A hot meal would have been a nice alternative. Unfortunately, it was only 2:30 in the afternoon in D.C., and, as the agent promptly informed him, they were going straight to a secure location. That secured location was not, Alex surmised, a hotel.

Alex watched the scenery silently as they drove the hour-long commute to their destination. He was too tired to maintain the pleasant small talk the agent tried to initiate at the beginning of the car ride. It hadn’t taken long for the agent to figure out that he wasn’t going to get more than one- or two-word replies from Alex, and the agent had dropped the discussion not long after they got on the highway.

Alex hadn’t been in the states for close to two years at this point - when he’d last seen the Pleasures. Sabina and Alex still texted occasionally, but their conversations were never long. It was hard to maintain friendships when every other month Alex was off on classified missions, helping protect the world. Even Tom and Alex were starting to drift.

It was why Alex had insisted on one semester. One short semester to reconnect with Tom and make friends at university before Alex started to mysteriously disappear again every so often. And now he was in America, at the behest of the CIA, and he didn’t even know why. He wouldn’t have come if Mrs. Jones hadn’t assured him that lives were at risk. (Although as Alex had thought bitterly after learning he was going to miss Tom’s party Friday for yet another trip out of the country that he couldn’t tell anyone about, when were lives _not_ at risk?)

The car had pulled off the highway a while ago. The scenery had begun to feature more woods than buildings. Now the car turned down a small road that wasn’t quite paved properly. As they continued down the bumpy road, they passed sporadically scattered houses.

“It’s not much longer,” the agent assured Alex.

Alex leaned against the passenger seat window and wished that he could have had just one semester of normalcy. 

When they finally arrived, it was at a large house with a well-maintained lawn. Several small statues of deer littered the lawn. The house looked exactly like several of the previous houses they had passed in that it was just far enough from the neighbors that no one would notice suspicious going-ons, which Alex rather suspected was the point.

“This is a lot smaller than Langley,” Alex noticed. “Did the CIA need to downsize?”

The agent laughed, politely. “Follow me. You can take your bag with you.”

Alex slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed the man inside.

As soon as Alex stepped inside the house, it was immediately clear that this was not a family residence. For someone who hadn’t spent as much time as Alex working in the intelligence field, perhaps the house would have passed a cursory glance. But Alex had spent nearly four years with MI6 now. He noticed the reinforced windowpanes, the lack of family photos or small clutter, and the stiff shoulders of the man working on a laptop in the living area. The cameras in every corner of each room were also a giveaway.

“You can drop your bag off upstairs,” the agent said. “First door on your left. We’ll be staying here for a few days.”

“My flight home is in four days.”

“We can figure out arrangements to get you home if things need to change.”

Alex shook his head. “I have to be back by Thursday. I’m leaving Wednesday morning; I can’t miss my next exam.”

The agent frowned. “We’ll figure it out.”

Alex headed upstairs; there was no point arguing. Mrs. Jones had promised he wouldn’t miss his exam, and Alex wasn’t sure ‘I was out because I needed to help the CIA’ was an excuse his professor would accept.

The room was sparse but clean. Alex dropped his backpack on the queen bed. There was an attached restroom, and he took a moment to wash his face before heading back downstairs. The agent was still waiting at the foot of the stairs.

“All ready?” he asked.

“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” Alex pointed out.

“I’ll introduce you to Rubio. He’ll brief you,” the agent said. “Rubio’s in charge of this interrogation.”

A sudden chill ran down Alex’s spine. Interrogation? Alex had been interrogated by the CIA before, and it wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat. Trying to resist a feeling of dread, Alex followed the agent down the hall and into an office.

Three men were inside, two sitting at desks and watching monitors, and the third standing behind the second man and peering over his shoulder. When the agent led Alex in, the man turned to see Alex.

“Alex Rider,” he exclaimed. “I’m Antonio Rubio, and I’m excited to meet you. Director Byrne has told me a lot about you.”

They shook hands.

“Now, Alex, do you know why you’re here?”

Alex shook his head.

“Well, it’s an important job. Nothing dangerous, not remotely, but it’s something that we were told you would be best suited for.” Rubio’s smiled waned. “Two weeks ago, the CIA were able to run a raid on a location run by one of the groups that split off from SCORPIA in the past few years. You may have heard of them – Scylla.”

Yes, Alex had heard of them. He didn’t know much about them, other than what he’d read in a briefing after Scylla had stolen classified data from the Americans and sold it to various other terror groups around the world. Scylla’s specialties were terror and espionage, and they did both well, judging on their brief record.

“Yes, I know a bit.”

“Well,” Rubio adjusted his glasses, then grimaced. “Our raid could have gone better. We knew they had managed to take information on our agents abroad through a corrupted bureaucrat who worked at Langley. We found their location. But by the time we got there, somehow, they’d gotten word we were on our way. Several of our men died. Good men. Men I knew.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “But why am I involved?”

“It wasn’t entirely a failure. We took three of our opponents alive.”

“And?”

Rubio shifted. “We have been trying to figure out what is happening to our intel, but we think only one of the men we have in our custody know where it is. We haven’t been able to crack him, though. And then my director spoke to your director of Special Operations, and your name was suggested.”

“My name was suggested for what?”

“To help run the interrogation,” Rubio said, as if it were obvious.

Alex stared. “I don’t know anything about questioning someone, or getting answers from someone who doesn’t like me. I’ve never done that before.”

“No, I didn’t think that a teenager was a master interrogator,” Rubio said dryly. One of the men staring at monitors glanced over at that, amused.

“Then why me?” Alex asked.

But he already had his answer.

As the man at the monitor had looked up, Alex had looked over at the motion. And he’d seen the room that was being watched through the monitors. More importantly, he’d seen the man, cuffed and motionless, sitting on one side of a small table. Alex swallowed. “I can’t do this.”

“You’re exactly who can do this,” Rubio said. “You know him. Gregorovich is a dangerous man, and according to what I’ve been told, he’s run into you a few times and let you live in each instance. There was mention of a time in Nigeria. Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Alex asked, knowing what the question implied. Was it true that Alex had been with two adult agents, and they’d both been tortured and murdered while Alex was allowed to walk away, free of any injuries? Yes, it was true enough. The mental gymnastics of dealing with Yassen’s words hadn’t been fun, but compared to what the dead agents had gone through it was nothing.

Rubio frowned. “I don’t know the details, but I think you do. You know him, yes? And he knows you.”

“Sure,” Alex said. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll talk to me.”

“Just try it. We’ll tell you exactly what to say. We can even send you in with an earpiece and guide you through our questions.” Rubio’s tone was suddenly intent. “We have to try something new, and this is the better option, believe me. We need to find out what information they stole, or every single one of our agents abroad could be in danger. And if they’re killed, who’s going to stop the terrorism, drugs, and chaos that’s happening in the world?”

Lives were always at risk. Every single time. And everyone in Alex’s life seemed to know to take advantage of that fact.

Alex’s shoulders slumped. “Ok,” he said, quietly. “I’ll try.”

\--

Yassen’s eyes were closed in a rest when Alex walked into the room. He took a seat across the table from Yassen. The man’s eyes remained closed. His wrists were in handcuffs and resting on the table. Alex glanced down and saw that the man’s ankles were both cuffed to the chair.

“Hi,” Alex said.

The flicker of surprise on Yassen’s face when he opened his eyes appeared genuine. And then it was gone, hidden behind the calm exterior Alex grown familiar with.

“I thought you were at school,” Yassen said, eventually, after Alex was beginning to suspect that Yassen wouldn’t respond.

“I am at school. If anyone asks, I’m just visiting a friend abroad for a couple days. I’ll be back in time for my next exam,” Alex said. He tried not to worry about the thought that Yassen knew he was at university.

Yassen smiled a humorless smile. “And they thought that if they brought you, I would tell what I know?”

It wasn’t really a question. They both knew that statement was true.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Alex admitted. “They want you to tell me where Scylla’s holding their information. They said they could make you a deal if you want.”

“What deal are they offering?”

A kinder prison environment, mainly, from what they’d told Alex.

“What do you want?” Alex asked instead.

“I would have wanted them not to take their child spy out of school for this.”

Alex would have preferred that too.

“I don’t think time travel is on the table,” Alex said instead, wishing he had been trained in how to interrogate someone. He wasn’t sure sarcasm was in the manual of how to extract information from a prisoner.

Yassen merely looked through him with a piercing gaze.

It was strange. Alex was free, and Yassen wouldn’t have been able to hurt Alex if he wanted to, not in these conditions. But it didn’t feel like Alex had the power in the room.

“A lot of people will get hurt if Scylla sells the information you stole,” Alex said. “A lot of people who are just trying to do the right thing.”

A scornful look passed over Yassen’s face.

Yeah, Alex hadn’t thought his appeal would work either. Yassen wasn’t a kind man, and he didn’t care if people were hurt.

“Even if you don’t care, you should think about yourself,” Alex said. “The CIA is offering a deal with you for this information. Things will be better later if you work with them.”

If there was any hope of convincing Yassen to do the right thing, it would probably involve the wrong reason. The problem was that all Alex’s words reminded himself of was a bad spiel in a particularly terrible cop drama.

If he wasn’t going to convince Yassen, he might as well leave. But first he would give it one more chance.

“I’m really tired,” Alex admitted. “I just got here from London, and I didn’t know you were here, and I don’t know how to do this. I’ll come back later. Will you just think of what you want?”

When Yassen only looked at him, Alex decided to leave.

Rubio wasn’t happy. The moment Alex returned to the office, ready to ask when he could eat something, Rubio started in on him.

“Alex,” the man said in a grave tone, “I know you aren’t trained for this. You’re young, and I don’t expect you to be MI6’s top questioner. But you have to do better.”

Alex stood, confused. “I did what you asked,” he pointed out. “I said you were willing to listen to a deal.”

“Yes,” Rubio said. “You did do that. And then you joked around and left.”

“I didn’t joke around,” Alex protested.

The man dismissed Alex’s protest. “Maybe not, not much anyway. But it was clear that you didn’t expect answers. You were in that room and out of there in fifteen minutes.”

Alex stayed quiet for a long moment. He had flown across the ocean to help the CIA, and now, in his first attempt at helping, he was being criticized. Finally, Alex asked, “What do you want me to do?”

Rubio grabbed a full file from one of the desks and handed it to Alex. “I want you to read these briefings. Eat something in the kitchen while you do, I know you got here from a long flight. We’ll talk afterwards.”

Alex found mac and cheese in the pantry and made himself a bowl, and then sat down to read.

The theme of the file became clear quickly. Most of the mission briefings had been thoroughly censored so details couldn’t be made out, and all names had been obscured, but it was clear enough that these briefings were current, and discussed missions around the world. Alex suspected that they were exactly the missions which would be left in danger if Scylla used the information they had stolen.

Rubio joined him after Alex had gotten through a third of the folder. Alex looked up as Rubio held out a sheet of paper with roughly twenty black and white portraits on it. “Look at these faces,” Rubio said. “I had to assemble them from several different places within our database, but you need to see them.”

Alex took the paper and looked at the rows of faces. “Who am I looking at?”

“Agents who were killed after Scylla sold their first round of intelligence.”

A hollowness began to form in the pit of Alex’s stomach.

“There are many more lives in danger this time,” Rubio said. “And finding out where that information is being stored so we can reclaim it is our _only_ priority here today.”

Alex put the paper down.

“I know you didn’t expect this. I wouldn’t have wanted to pull a kid into this, either.” Rubio sighed. “We have a lot of lives at stake right now, and we need your help. Real help, not a fifteen-minute conversation. Can we count on you to help, or is this a waste of our time?”

There were always lives at stake.

Alex couldn’t ignore a situation where he might be the only one able to save those lives.

“I’ll help.”

\--

The earpiece in Alex’s ear was small enough that it was obscured by Alex’s hair, which had grown longer than he’d let it grow in at least a year. But it didn’t matter that it was hidden; Yassen had to know it was there. Throughout the day, Rubio would tell Alex the questions he wanted asked, Alex would hear the question as a tiny voice in his ear, and he would repeat the question.

None of the questions yielded results.

Yassen must have decided that his best approach was silence. Rubio wasn’t surprised – apparently Yassen had only spoken a few sentences for the entire time he’d been held a prisoner here.

It was nearing the end of the day when Yassen spoke for the first time.

“Ask how much he was being paid by Scylla,” Rubio said in Alex’s ear.

“How much were they paying you?” Alex asked.

Yassen continued to watch Alex quietly.

“Ask him if Scylla has another office in D.C.,” Rubio said.

Alex was still a moment.

“Nod if you heard my question,” Rubio said, calmly.

Alex didn’t nod.

He needed a moment to think. These questions that the CIA were asking weren’t getting answers. Yassen wasn’t interested in them.

“Why can’t you just be selfish and take a deal?” Alex asked, surprised by himself. In his ear, Rubio was quiet.

Yassen raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t care if people are hurt,” Alex said. “I know you don’t. But they’re offering you a deal, and you might as well take it. It’s better than nothing.”

“Is it?” Yassen asked.

“It has to be,” Alex replied, seizing onto the first response he’d gotten in days. “And people will _get hurt_ if you don’t. Lots of people, not just the agents, but the people they’re on missions to protect.”

The room was silent.

“Ask him if –“ Rubio began, before Alex cut him off to desperately try to engage Yassen again.

“You were wrong.”

“About?” Yassen asked.

“In Nigeria. You said that things weren’t black and white, and maybe they weren’t, but the result was still terrible.” Alex cut himself off before he could speak specifically to Nigeria having atomic weapons. The mission was classified; the CIA didn’t need to know why Alex had been in Nigeria three years ago.

“For which country?”

“The world! I don’t care about politics; it’s not my thing. But whenever a group is just trying to develop more ways to kill people, it’s wrong! And I don’t mean what my mission was – I know that’s complicated – I mean what you were doing was wrong. Helping them do that. Things aren’t always black and white, but sometimes they are. Right now is one of those times. If you don’t tell me how to help people, you’re wrong. Sometimes the intelligence world is as simple as that.”

Yassen shrugged. “You can believe that. I do not.”

“I don’t care,” Alex said, surprisingly himself with his viciousness.

“Alex,” the voice in his head said. “Get back on track. He’s talking. Offer him the deal we talked about.”

“Alright,” Alex said. “Alright.” He calmed his nerves. “They want you to know that if you don’t cooperate, they’ll stick you in a cell in a place where you won’t even have a chance to speak to anyone again. If you do cooperate, they’ll work with you. They’ll find you a comfortable prison. It won’t be terrible.”

Yassen tiled his head. “Do you believe them?”

“Yes.”

They stayed quiet for a moment, locked in a staring contest that was ending in a stalemate. Rubio spoke again in Alex’s ear.

Alex frowned.

“What now?” Yassen asked. “Did they promise to throw in a sunny vacation with their comfortable prison?”

“No,” Alex said. He broke eye contact. “It doesn’t matter what they said.”

Rubio repeated what he wanted told.

Alex gritted his teeth, then muttered, “I’m not saying that.”

There was more talking in his ear.

Alex glared at the table. He didn’t say anything. The directions were repeated.

“You should take the deal,” Alex said, still avoiding eye contact.

“You know that’s not going to happen, Alex.”

Alex looked up. “You should.”

“What are they telling you to say?”

Alex’s jaw twitched. He clenched a fist. “I told them I’m only here for a few days. I have an exam soon.”

“And?” Yassen prompted.

“And they’re going to try other methods, if you won’t work with me.”

Yassen appeared unsurprised.

Rubio told Alex more questions to ask after that, but Alex didn’t repeat any. After four questions, Alex got up to leave. Before he did, he looked at Yassen one final time, helplessly. “Consider a deal?”

“Goodnight, Alex.”

Alex left.

\--

Monday morning went slowly. Rubio asked questions through Alex, and Yassen, once again, was unresponsive. Alex left the room twice to calm himself. He needed to find the information out. Now. Every minute that passed without Yassen’s cooperation made the likelihood of retrieving the stolen information smaller.

Rubio was clearly feeling the pressure as well. After Alex had eaten lunch, the man pulled Alex into the office.

“I’m done asking nicely,” Rubio said.

Alex’s eyes widened. “You said if he didn’t cooperate with me, then you’d use other methods. I’m still here!”

“There’s not enough time for patience. He doesn’t want to speak, and time’s running out.” Rubio took in Alex’s expression. “You don’t have to be there.”

“You said I knew him best,” Alex said. “You said I would run the interrogation.”

“Alright,” Rubio responded. “I want you to think of those photos. The people who were already killed. And think about the briefings you were reading, and all the people in danger now.”

Alex did.

“Tell me I’m wrong, to escalate,” Rubio challenged.

Alex stood frozen.

“I’m waiting.”

Moments passed.

“Alright,” Rubio said. “I’m right, I think we agree, and it’s needed. Do you want to join, or hide in your room?”

Alex stepped into the room alone, first. He took the interrogator’s seat, and then asked, “Did you decide to help us?”

No response was forthcoming.

The door opened, and two men came inside. One of them was holding a toolkit.

Yassen looked only at Alex. If Alex didn’t know the circumstances, he would swear that Yassen was amused. “I didn’t hurt you,” the man pointed out.

“I know.”

Alex kept his eyes locked on the scene. It didn’t take long for the CIA agents to position themselves around Yassen, with tools in hand. Yassen didn’t put up a fight, futile though it may have been.

Yassen’s face was already pale for the first few minutes, but it was only when he made his first suppressed and pained noise that Alex wanted to throw up.

It only took one more minute before Alex decided to flee the room.

\--

Yassen didn’t give anything up. Alex didn’t ask, but when he left the bedroom where he’d been hiding to grab food late that evening, it was clear immediately that the agents were stressed and upset.

Sleep that night was impossible, so Alex tried to study instead. He gave up after an hour of staring at notes without taking anything in. He was still awake when an agent knocked on the bedroom door at five Tuesday morning.

“Are you alright?” Rubio asked when Alex entered the office.

“Sure,” Alex replied tonelessly.

Rubio looked at him. It was impossible to read his expression, and for a moment Alex saw the similarities between this man and Yassen. Both were driven. Both appeared emotionless in a way, even when appealling to Alex’s own emotions. Both resorted to torture if they needed. The difference was that Rubio was trying to help people.

Right then, Alex wished that made more sense in his head.

“Gregorovich kept his secrets,” Rubio said, steadily. “And I don’t think he’s going to give them up anytime soon. Do you think he’ll crack?”

Alex shrugged.

The older agent sighed, and adjusted his glasses. “We have you until tomorrow morning. There’s no point continuing like this while we have you. I’m not sure there’s even a point continuing like this once you’ve left. I don’t think telling you the questions to ask will help, either. Can you just get him to talk?”

“I haven’t yet.”

“Not about this. Just about anything. Anything we can use. Honestly, just keep him talking. It will be useful, or it won’t.”

“Ok,” Alex agreed, softly. He wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping for – that he wouldn’t have to see Yassen after that, maybe?

“Ok.” Rubio forced a smile at him. “Do what you can. You’re trying, kid, I can tell. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

Yassen was already in the interrogation room when Alex walked in, the same as every day previously. Alex sat before he glanced up to take in Yassen’s state.

Yassen was tired. The man had faint circles under his eyes, and he was almost as pale as he’d been yesterday when Alex had left.

There weren’t any other marks that Alex could see, but Yassen was also, unlike the previous days, wearing a long sleeve shirt.

Alex was supposed to get Yassen to talk, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t suggested the torture, but he also hadn’t objected – not enough – when it was suggested.

Yassen broke the silence. “I recall a child who told me once that torture was illegal.”

Alex stared at the ground.

“It’s interesting how children grow up,” Yassen said.

“They thought it was the right thing to do,” Alex responded, faintly.

“Was it the right thing to do?”

No, because torture was wrong, Alex wanted to say.

No, because it hadn’t gotten results, some harsh part of Alex’s brain responded.

Yes, because nothing else had worked and lives were at stake, a voice suspiciously close to his own whispered back.

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “But they’re doing the right thing by trying to save people. You aren’t.”

Silence greeted his words. Alex, reluctantly, looked up to meet Yassen’s gaze.

The man’s gaze was even. “What day is it today?”

“Tuesday,” Alex said. He wasn’t sure if he should add the date.

Apparently, what he had said was enough. Yassen nodded once. “I can hold out, today, and by Friday the information will have already injured many that you are worried about. They can torture me as much as they would like; the CIA does follow certain restrictions. I will hold out until then. Or I can make a deal, today. But my terms need to be agreed upon today, while you are here, or I will stop talking.”

Alex hesitated.

“Go get your boss,” Yassen said. “He will want to make the deal himself.”

Rubio did want to be there himself.

Alex sat back in the third chair that had been brought in for him while the day whittled by, while the deal was agreed and then the information was given. His input wasn’t needed, and so he said nothing while he listened in.

It was only at the end that Alex got a chance to contribute again, after Rubio stood to leave. Alex got up to follow him out of the room, before Yassen said, “Alex, stay a minute.”

“We’re done,” Rubio said. “He doesn’t need to listen to you any longer.”

“I can stay,” Alex said.

Rubio gave him a long, searching look. “Five minutes. No more.”

Alex nodded and sat back down, and Rubio left. Finally, it was just Alex and Yassen again, although Alex wasn’t fool enough to think every second of this wasn’t being listened to and transcribed for MI6 as well as the CIA.

“What now?” Alex asked. “Are you going to tell me to go back to school?”

“No,” Yassen dismissed. “It’s too late for that.”

What did that mean? Alex was tempted to ask, but he resisted the urge. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the words referred to, in honesty.

Yassen examined him. “I’m glad you’re well, Alex,” he said at last. 

Alex couldn’t say that Yassen was the same. “Alright,” Alex responded.

They sat a minute more, and then the door opened for Alex to leave.

\--

Three months later, MI6 called Alex with the news that Yassen had broken out of the prison he’d arranged to be placed in. Alex couldn’t say he was surprised. He couldn’t bring himself to feel particularly concerned about the CIA and the agents they would lose to chasing Yassen, either. In the time after Yassen’s interrogation, Alex had spent enough time worrying about what he was willing to do to help the right cause. He didn’t have time to worry about what Yassen would do as well – Alex already knew that, if he could, he would do the opposite of what Yassen would do in a situation.

Unfortunately, life wasn’t so simple. And – maybe - sometimes the right cause required the wrong means to get there.


End file.
